The Roberto Clemente Bridge

This bridge’s inclusion on such a prestigious Mount Rushmore is a no-brainer. The only question is: “Where to start when discussing Roberto Clemente?”

Clemente is so great it is difficult to properly discuss him in so little space here.

In fact, Clemente was so filled with greatness that it was difficult for him to pack all his good deeds into the 38 years of his life. Overflowing with goodness, his mortal body could not contain it all. Such high talk may sound like hyperbole traditional of this website or this Mount Rushmore, but we must emphasize here that we are no longer talking hyperbole with Clemente. This is reality. With Clemente, his greatness is such that it makes hyperbole difficult, for Clemente embodies greatness.

Clemente was not only a Hall of Fame baseball player who manned right field for the Pittsburgh Pirates from his rookie year in 1955 to his tragic death New Year’s Eve of 1972, he was a great humanitarian whose early death sadly resulted precisely from his giving nature, bringing relief supplies to earthquake victims in Nicaragua when his plane crashed off the shores of Puerto Rico. He was the best kind of martyr: one who never intended to be, whose kindness and generosity led him to that unfortunate fate. A word often tossed around too loosely in sports–-hero–-is indeed appropriate for Clemente.

Because we love Roberto Clemente so much, the Roberto Clemente Foundation is one the charities we directly support.

Because we love Clemente so much, our normal proclivity for humor is set aside, for Clemente’s story is not a comedy.

It is a tragedy.

To get to know Clemente, even in his death, is an experience.

To cross the Clemente Bridge is also an experience.

It is not an experience that should be rushed, so we recommend walking.

Walking across his Bridge is a tradition when attending Pirate games. It can be common to park downtown and then stroll across the bridge, which typically is closed to cars for games and so becomes a walking bridge for such events. Once you have crossed the Allegheny to the North Shore, you are greeted by Clemente’s Statue, where a photograph must be taken, like meeting up with an old friend for the game (and indeed, perhaps you meeting up with an old friend at the Clemente Statue). This Bridge is more than just a bridge; it is a mini-pilgrimage.

This Bridge is one of reflection. When attending a Pirates game at PNC Park, you look back upon the Bridge and the Allegheny and the beautiful Pittsburgh skyline, Pittsburgh’s downtown; in other words, you look back at where you came from.

Every once in a blue moon a ball will soar over the Clemente Wall in right field, over the right field stands, over the walkway, and into the Allegheny River. That is quite a feat for any left-handed slugger who enters PNC Park. It is a rare, massive accomplishment and, for a moment, puts you in the same breath as Clemente, for an announcer will remark how you hit the ball above the Clemente Wall, which will be echoed by reporters. For a moment, your name joins his.

Unfortunately, feats of greatness are rare for the home team there nowadays, as the Pirates have only had one mini three-year playoff run amidst a sea of losing seasons during their time, this entire millennium, in this beautiful park, the best in baseball. And so, as you sit in the stadium, you think of the glory days of Clemente, of Bill Mazeroski, who has a statue at PNC Park and the lone Game 7 walk-off homer in World Series history that secured Clemente’s first MLB championship in 1960; you think of Willie Stargell who also has a statue at the stadium and was the Patriarch of 1979 “We Are Family” team and starred on the 1971 World Series team with Clemente. Clemente was the heart of the Pirates glory years and the bridge between the Mazeroski Pirates to the Stargell Pirates. Clemente’s Bridge beyond the field of play is apropos for so many reasons. Where the current greatness lacks in the ballpark, the echoes of greatness are many and not difficult to hear.

One can reflect further back to a time before any of us were alive and the great Honus Wagner, often simmering somewhere in the conversation of the best player ever, manned shortstop for the Buccos and later resurfaced in modern pop culture with his mysterious baseball card, so highly valued and owned by so many different celebrities. The stories of Wagner are those of folklore; like Clemente, kids adored Wagner.

But the positive PNC Park reflections, more remarkable than what is taking place on the field below, can be personalized too, to whatever your own life experience may be, whatever your connection to the Buccos or baseball may be. For me, I have a brick at the stadium from when it was built: a gift from my grandma. It may require a little investigation, for you dear reader, to find it.

For me too it takes some investigation, for I have visited the brick so infrequently for the power of nostalgia is so great that I can feel my grandma’s presence, and that of her father, my great-grandfather, to whom the brick’s phrase—illegitimi non carborundum—is a familial allusion, a sort of inside joke between him and another Lutheran minister. It was one of countless meaning-packed gifts from her, including my first book on Clemente that got me really interested in him during my adolescence.

In a way, this is the true Field of Dreams, the ultimate breathing in of nostalgia’s magic, a Bridge not just to the past, but to specific good moments. It is not a Bridge to the false notion of “the good old days,” but a bridge to the real notion of genuinely specific good moments that, for a moment, can soar into your consciousness like a ball soaring over Clemente Wall.

Roberto Clemente is called ‘The Great One” and so too should we call his Bridge “The Great One” when distinguishing the world’s premier Bridge from the hoi polloi structures incapable of the time travel abilities we have so described in the Clemente Bridge.

As mentioned, this is a Bridge of Reflection and there is much more to learn about Clemente. One of great ways to do so it to listen to the episodes in a podcast, Talkin’ 21, by Sweet Livin’ friend Danny Torres, who is in addition to being a great guy, is a top Roberto Clemente historian.

Just like Roberto had nice siblings, so too does his Bridge, which is the perfect segue to the next Bridge on this great Mount Rushmore.